What We've Become
by for you to notice
Summary: “I don’t know what I'm supposed to do that’s all. I don’t know what's supposed to happen next. I don’t know what really is going to happen next. SS post finale oneshot


_Note: This has been swimming around in my head for a while, and I'm sure it could be better, but it's finished and I have a new found obsession for the song, so just please give a read and perhaps a little comment? (whoa, one sentence) Kthnks._

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_Hold my head inside your hands,  
I need someone who understands.  
I need someone, someone who hears,  
For you, I've waited all these years._

For you, I'd wait 'till kingdom come.  
Until my day, my day is done.  
And say you'll come, and set me free,  
Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me.

In your tears and in your blood,  
In your fire and in your flood,  
I hear you laugh, I heard you say,  
"I wouldn't change a single thing."

**_Coldplay "'Till Kingdom Come"_**

****

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This wasn't supposed to be happening to them.

Coop wasn't a murderer, and Ryan was actually starting to get past the whole brooding thing. He had the potential to be an above average person.

Cohen was supposed to be ranting and rambling constantly. It was who they were. The way they were supposed to be.

But everything was ruined, and no one knew when it would ever go back to the way it was. And Summer was just tired of no one talking to anyone. They were all just fooling themselves to think their parents couldn't figure out what happened. Marissa had sped her way home, luckily without any cop cars, and stared at her hands in her bed for a week. Subtle, very subtle, Coop.

Mr. Cohen knew everything. That was just a fact. They all knew it and had come to terms with it. He probably had thought about telling Mrs. Cohen, but it would worry her, and she was kind of off in a different world anyway. She'd know soon enough though.

But Mr. Cohen was always over talking to Mr. Cooper, and Mrs. Cooper Nichol, and Marissa. He was worried about them, which just confirmed any suspicion about what he knew. He had this thing embedded inside of him that forced him to save anyone and everyone he possibly could. It was sweet, really; Mr. Cohen was one of those few good men that people could write a life story about that won awards.

Summer didn't like being home. Her dad and his _wife_ didn't know anything, because they really didn't care as long as it didn't affect them. If it ever came out that Summer's best friend was a second degree murderer, they might mention something. Maybe not. Her dad probably would. Their relationship had been cooling down over the past year, especially the second she had broken up with Zach. Sometimes she thought her dad should just marry him. At least it would get the Step-Monster off of their backs.

So Summer stayed with Seth. Well, as much as she was allowed to stay with Seth. Usually Mr. Cohen came in at around eleven or twelve and told Summer that they'd see her tomorrow. And she could kiss Cohen in front of him and then give Mr. Cohen the smile she'd perfected before leaving for home. Even though, she'd started wanting to consider the expanse between Cohen's sheets her home.

Summer opens the Cohens' door; it's always unlocked these days. She wonders what the Nana would say, but she doubts any of the boys living there would care. Ryan lies on the couch, staring at the ceiling and watching a Lifetime movie, somehow at the same time. He acknowledges Summer with a movement of his mouth that's supposed to resemble a smile. She knows it's the best he can do, so she smiles back. His eyes are breaking her heart. It's like the blue inside has gone cold and indifferent, barely recognizing his surroundings. Summer tells herself that it would be better if Mrs. Cohen was home. She'd sit with Ryan and rub his leg. The last time she'd had to do that, Theresa had told him she'd lost the baby. Mrs. Cohen could sit with him for hours.

But Summer's not one of those people. She's always wanted to be, but it feels more and more awkward the longer she stays. She's always been a fan of screaming until her throat hurts, so she never knows what to say to people that shut down. She's gotten used to Marissa, but she barely knows Ryan. She has no sort of comfort to offer him.

So she just smiles and walks up the stairs, closing Seth's door behind her. He's lying on his bed, holding a pillow against his chest.

"Hey." He looks up when he sees her and offers a more convincing smile than Ryan did. It's a smile, but he looks like he could burst into tears in a second if he wanted to.

"Hey." She sits on the bed next to him, kicking off her shoes. She finds his hands underneath the comforter and holds them against her chest. He's looking at the ceiling again.

Slowly, Summer inches over and rests her chin against his shoulder, turning his face towards her. She kisses him, abandoning his hands so hers can cover the rest of his face. He's kissing her back, but without any sort of direction. He used to always be pawing at something or laughing with her as one of their backs hit the sheets. She doesn't need to ask him, because she knows he's thinking about Ryan downstairs on the couch. At least the thought of his brother diminishes his sexual drive instead of increasing it.

Summer pushes up with her toes, covering as much of him as possible with her legs, her abdomen, anything and everything she has available. It's the only way she can think of to protect him. He's still lying relatively motionless, interrupting it momentarily to bring his hand up, brush away her hair, and tilt her head to the left.

He's willing to kiss her as long as she wants, but Summer wonders if he has the energy to even move away. They all seem in some sort of coma, ever since his grandfather's funeral.

"Summer," he murmurs against her lips, causing her to arch her neck and look at him staring at her. He brings his hand up again and tucks her hair behind her ear and slides his hand down her face, pausing with his hand in front of her entire face, the continuing and swirling his finger at her chin.

She smiles the best out of the three of them, putting pressure on her hands on either side of his hips. She skims herself down his body, laying her head beneath his chin. His hand stays in her hair, smoothing it down over and over again. She feels his lips against the top of her head and feels better. With her head tucked into his neck, he's protecting her again.

"I'm so sorry about all of this." She feels his breath fluttering her hair.

"About what?"

"This. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"I know."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do; that's all. I don't know what's supposed to happen next. I don't know what really _is_ going to happen next."

"I know."

"I want Ryan to talk more. He has to sometime. At least to my _dad_."

"He will."

"You don't know Ryan. He won't unless someone or something forces him. He'll cry with my mom, but he won't _talk_ to anyone. I don't even know what he thinks of Marissa."

"So much has happened to him. He just has a different way of getting past it."

"But this was his brother. His blood." Seth adds as an afterthought, and she can feel his head shift in discomfort or disappointment. Disappointed that he isn't to Ryan what some stealing, angry, drugged out rapist was.

She wants to say something to tell him that he is so much better than all of that; that he doesn't have to worry, because she knows Ryan loved him. She thinks he knows it too. So she stays silent, hating to find herself calmed by Seth's steady thumb, because she was supposed to be making him feel better. She pushes her head up to look at his face. It's turned to the side away from her, eyes clenched closed in frustration. She extends her hand to wipe at the skin beneath his eyes. No tears.

"I just want him to be able to have something. He just sits there all day, barely even moving. If he wants to be mad, that's okay; if he wants to be sad, _that's okay_. That's something I can actually understand, and we could talk about. Or we could just _do_ something. I don't..."

"Cohen."

He stops midsentence, assuming she is stopping him from rambling. "Sorry."

"We're all going to be okay. We always are."

"You weren't me last year." He finally turns his head back to see her watching him. "I wasn't okay at all. You were..."

"I'm sorry." In less than a second, her lips are against his, because she doesn't want to hear how much pain she put him through. She just wants to take it away. He's kissing her back, stronger this time. Since he's spoken, it's like they have a temporary ticket to get back to where they were. This whole year, she's only had one opportunity to have him inside her, and it's killing her. It occurred to her at some point in time that she seemed to only be attracted to virgins. Almost the exact opposite of Marissa.

His hands slip up the back of her tee shirt far enough so that he can thumb the silky fabric of her bra. He doesn't give any indication of wanting to do anything but touch her clothes and hesitantly let his tongue dance with hers. But Summer isn't willing to let another chance pass her by, so she strips off her shirt in a second, closing the distance between them that grew too big so she could get her shirt over her head. She leans even closer in, her bare thigh pushing against his jean clad one. His one hand runs down her back until he slips over the curve of her shorts and underneath her ass. He slowly pushes up, bringing her closer and closer to him.

Summer sits up, pulling on Seth's shirt until he follows her. She pulls off his shirt too, because she needs to feel his skin again. It was one thing when she needed for him not to cry; now she just needs him. She drops her hands to his pants, and he lets out some sort of strangled moan.

"Summer, I don't know..."

"Oh." She pulls back her hands immediately, embarrassed, and crosses her arms under her chest. She mumbles, "Sorry" for what seems like the tenth time that day.

"I'm just worried, _scared_, about everything right now, and I don't know if it's the right time to..."

"Right. Okay." She reaches for her shirt, but his hand on her arm stops her.

"It's not that I don't _want_ to." She turns to look at him and his hand is on her cheek. "I don't know when my dad gets back, either."

She nods solidly, and reaches for her shirt again. However, he stops her, pushing her back down onto his chest. His hands caress her neck and shoulders underneath her hair causing goosebumps to rise all over her back and arms. He pulls the covers from underneath him to around the two of them, tugging them over his head. She rolls off of him so she can look at him in their seclusion.

"It's so weird, but even though all this is happening, I just can't believe _this_, you. I mean, you have no idea how long I've wanted this," he whispers for no reason, letting his hand fall on her cheek.

She places her hand on top of his, sliding his hand toward her mouth and kisses his fingers. He smiles a little more sincerely this time, and she knows they're going to be okay. If they can live through all of this, all of these past two years, they can survive anything.


End file.
